


When Noble Emily Met the Angel Castiel

by bushlaboo



Series: When Noble Emily [2]
Category: General Hospital, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3278906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushlaboo/pseuds/bushlaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3148088">When Noble Emily Met Dean Winchester</a> and a bit of a season five remix. Two years after meeting Sam and Dean a certain angel comes a calling because the Winchesters need assistance and Castiel thinks Emily is the person for the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Noble Emily Met the Angel Castiel

Her life had finally settled down. Many, she was sure, would find it boring and predictable, but having spent most of her life in one crisis or another Emily had welcomed the monotony. Long hours of interning at the hospital (that included lunch with her mother whenever they were both on duty), weekly dinners with her brother, spending time with her favorite teenagers on the weekends she had off, and the occasional girls’ night out at Jake’s with her friends – that was her life and she enjoyed it. Except for on those tequila filled nights when her friends harassed her about her lack of a personal life. She dated. Okay, sort of dated. Emily hadn’t had a third date in nearly two years. She kept reminding her friends that it was _her_ choice. At first they had understood, but as weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year they became less understanding. Set ups and blind dates started then and Emily gritted her teeth and bared them. It was easier to deal with her friends’ kind concern and desire to see her happy, than explain that she was still stuck on a guy she’d known for two weeks.

 

A guy she shared one searing kiss with, after two weeks of sexual tension and outrageous flirting, before he drove out of her life in car that she was certain meant more to him than she did. Yeah, like that confession would go over well with Elizabeth, Robin, Lainey, and Kelly.

 

The only person Emily ever considered sharing her hang up with was Georgie Jones. Georgie and her boyfriend, Spinelli, had been with her when she met the mysterious and protective Dean Winchester. Every time she considered confiding in the younger woman though, Emily reminded herself that Georgie eventually shared everything with Spinelli, and if Spinelli knew than Jason would. The very last thing she wanted was her brother involved in her love life – even if it was non-existent. So there she was, settled in what was probably a rut, when an angel came knocking.

 

Technically he did not knock. It was more like he materialized in front of her. While she was wearing flannel pajamas and fuzzy slippers, eating blueberry pie ice cream directly from the carton as Bruce Willis faced off against terrorists. Surprise had Emily sucking air into her lungs and dropping the uneaten bite of ice cream back into its container.

 

The intruder just stood there looking at her. If he would have moved Emily was certain that she would have screamed, instead he stood completely still. He didn’t even blink. She had to be dreaming. That was it. Sure the ice cream had tasted delicious and felt cold in her hands, but no one just appeared. “Just dreaming,” she muttered to herself before eating the bite of ice cream she carelessly dropped.

 

The sweet and creamy flavor exploded in her mouth, and she felt the cold of it slide down her throat and into her stomach. Or maybe not. “Who are you?”

 

The dark haired man tilted his head, “Castiel. I am an angel of the Lord.”

 

“Oh,” she replied, her dark eyes widening in shock. “Like my life wasn’t weird enough.” The angel did not respond to her comment. He just stood there, all six feet plus of him perfectly still, his electric blue eyes studying her. Emily considered the possibility that he was crazy – he thought he was an angel – of course he’d just appeared in front of her television as Bruce declared: “Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker!” If the angel was a figment of her imagination that meant she was the crazy one in the room. “I’m not crazy,” she stated defensively.

 

“No.”

 

“No. The hallucination says, ‘no.’”

 

“I am not hallucination. I am Castiel, angel—”

 

“Of the Lord,” Emily said with a wave of her hand. “So you said. Let’s pretend I’m not crazy and you’re really, well,” she paused, unable to say the word, and set the carton on the table in front of her. “You’re what you say you are. Why exactly are you here to see me?” she inquired, meeting his intense gaze.

 

“I am in need of your assistance.”

 

Emily gaped. An angel needed her help, she thought in disbelief. His gravelly voice had been firm. _Serious_. He meant it. “You want my help?” she asked, pulling her knees up to chest and hugging them to her.

 

“Yes.”

 

Emily couldn’t decide if an angel needing her help was confusing or scary? It was definitely a little mind-boggling. Why her of all people. She was capable, yes, but what could a human do for an angel? That’s where the scary came in. What did he expect her to do? “Okay, so you want my help.” He, the angel, Castiel nodded confirming his purpose. “Doing what exactly?”

 

“Being,” he replied.

 

Being? He wanted her to be. Be what? “Right, okay, I kind of am being already.”

 

“Not here.”

 

“As far as clarification goes that doesn’t work,” Emily remarked as confusion shifted toward anger.

 

Emotion crossed his face. It was so slight that all most anyone else would have missed the flash of frustration. “I am not,” he paused, and Emily could see that he was deciding how best to express himself, “explaining properly. I require you be as you are for Dean Winchester.”

 

She jerked at Dean’s name. Her face started to flush as her temperament blackened. This was some weird twisted joke, and she was done being the butt of it. “I’m done humoring you. Get out.”

 

“Emily—”

 

Launching herself up off her couch she repeated, “Get out!”

 

Sadness or something like it flashed in eyes. “I apologize, but it is necessary.” Before she could contradict him, Castiel reached out and touched her gently on the forehead. Instinctively Emily stepped back, but instead of hitting her carpeted floor, her foot landed on something lumpy. And slippery. Losing her balance Emily threw her hands out blindly hoping to catch herself. She let out an “oof” as her hip crashed against something that was trying unsuccessfully to be soft. It squeaked as her rump connected with the floor and a groggy, dangerous voice exclaimed, “What the hell?”

 

A light turned on. The bulb flickered and cast an eerie yellow light around the rundown room. Sitting up in one of the double beds in the room was Dean Winchester. He looked rumpled and tired. He was also holding a wicked looking knife. In the bed next to him was his brother, Sam. He appeared just as surprised and exhausted as his brother, but unlike Dean, he had no weapon at the ready. Still it seemed to Emily that he was just as capable of violence should it be necessary.

 

“Emily?” Surprise hitched Sam’s voice.

 

“Hi,” she replied with an awkward wave. She felt utterly ridiculous in her pjs and slippers and desperately wished she had a robe that she could draw around herself. She settled for rubbing her sore hip. “I don’t suppose you two know an angel by the name of Castiel?”

 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean seethed as he slipped the knife back under his pillow.

 

\---

 

Emily smiled cheerfully as the waitress gave her another circumspect look. She thought her less than graceful landing in the Winchesters’ motel room while wearing her pajamas had been embarrassing, but that hadn’t compared to the looks she received from the waitress and scattered patrons of the all-night diner when she walked in with Sam and Dean. Two attractive guys were liable to draw attention, but the fact they’d entered with a girl in such odd attire seemed to fascinate the after midnight crowd. Not that she could blame them. She was wearing a pair of Sam’s faded jeans; they were belted tight to her waist and cuffed at her ankles. Below the artificial line she was still wearing her slippers. She was also wearing a beat up grey t-shirt of Dean’s; it was the last clean shirt between the brothers.

 

The Angel-Ex travel and finding out that Armageddon had started was unnerving so instead of eating Emily found herself aimless twirling her spoon through her soup as she studied the Winchesters. They both looked like they desperately needed the sleep her sudden appearance had torn them from; however, Dean had a bone-weary, weight of the world exhaustion in his hazel eyes. Believing what they’d told her – and with an angel involved how could she not? – she could understand why, though the hardness that defined every aspect of Sam concerned her. The Winchesters did not look like the men she met two years ago. The ease between them and the way they’d moved in sync, as if they were one person in two bodies, was gone.

 

A lot could happen in two years she reminded herself. Hell, a lot could happen in a few minutes. She could picture the carton of ice cream sweating a ring onto her coffee table as the television flickered throughout the night. She did not have her cell on her and Emily knew it wouldn’t be too long until Jason or Lucky checked on her because she wasn’t answering. She didn’t like picturing how either of them would react to her mostly pristine apartment empty with her purse and keys by the door where she always left them. Her growing apprehension had a knot forming in her stomach. Food was definitely out. Emily dropped her spoon in the soup and nudged the cup away.

 

She didn’t want to alarm her brother or best friend, but explaining why she left her home and how she ended up at least a thousand miles from Port Charles without any identification or money was not going to be easy and there was no way she could lie to either of them. Of course telling them that the apocalypse was upon them was not appealing either. “Stupid angel,” she muttered.

 

“What’s that?” Dean asked through his bite of cheeseburger. “Dude, manners,” Sam admonished him. Dean rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated swallow of his bite. “What’s that,” he repeated in a mocking falsetto of Sam’s voice.

 

Emily bit back a giggle. She did not want to encourage Dean and foster any more tension between the brothers. “Just bad mouthing our winged friend. He is our friend, right?”

 

The Winchesters exchanged a quick look that had her bracing for their answer. “Yes,” Dean answered.

 

Sam made a face and amended his elder brother’s statement with, “Most of the time.”

 

“Perfect,” Emily sighed. Throughout the world and even into Heaven it seemed that there was no such thing as a straight up white hat.

 

\---

 

Nice going Sammy, Dean thought nastily as he watched Emily’s mood darken. While he was at it he cursed Castiel again. Dean could not fathom what the angel was thinking bring Emily into this mess. His first instinct … okay his _second_ – as his downstairs brain had done the first thinking – had been to find the quickest and safest way to get Emily home. Not that it would do them or her any good if Castiel was determined to have her with them. He’d keep zapping her back until whatever was planned for her was done. He didn’t have to like it, he could rail against it, but it would have absolutely no affect.

 

It pissed him off. It was a feeling he was getting used to however. He had not been able to stop what happened to his family. He hadn’t been able to stop Lucifer from rising. He could not help Bobby. He wasn’t sure he could stop what was happening in the world around them. And now, to add insult to injury, he couldn’t stop another innocent person from being dragged into the fight.

 

Dean took a vicious bite from his burger and chewed hard. It was misplaced aggression, but it was better to take it out on the delicious sandwich then his brother, who deserved it, or Emily, who did not. After he swallowed he began to explain their complicated relationship with Cas. The fact that Castiel had come on like the other angels – who he’d vehemently described as douche bags (which Sam seconded) – no longer mattered, when the critical moment came Castiel sided with him and paid dearly. He hadn’t been the only one, but before he could continue Emily interrupted him. “Wait. If he carved this Enochian sigil into your ribs how did he know where to send me?”

 

“We’re still working the communication thing out actually,” Sam answered, “but Cas knew we were in town on job.”

 

It seemed to him that Emily wanted to ask what kind of job, since they had indicated there was more out there then angels and demons, but instead looked back down at her uneaten soup. He was certain it was difficult enough trying to keep all the information they’d thrown at her straight, let alone attempting to process other things that go bump in the night; but the fact that she hadn’t run from them screaming impressed him. Having an angel zap her across the country probably helped, but Emily barely looked phased. He found himself wondering about her life again. He remembered how cool and collected she’d been at the Grand Canyon when they met with bullets flying. She didn’t hesitate and for the two weeks she and her charges had been with them, slowing making their way to New York City, she’d been composed. She’d never gone in the specifics of her life with him or Sam, but whatever her life was he wasn’t sure how much world ending insanity they could throw at her before she cracked.

 

\---

 

Emily picked up her spoon and once again twirled it in her cooling soup. She could feel the Winchesters concerned gaze on her. They were waiting for the piling news of angels and demons, the apocalypse, and other big-bads to illicit a normal response, which would probably be denial or calling them crazy and trying to run away from them. Granted she had be disconcerted when Castiel had just appeared before her and learning the world was on course to end wasn’t exactly news you took with a grain of salt, but she knew that there was more in the world than could be explained rationally. And not just because she read her Shakespeare, she’d been cursed and barely survived after all. “I’m not going to freak out,” she told the brothers lifting her gaze to meet theirs. “I know you’re waiting for me to.”

 

Sam tried to protest, but she continued over him. “Considering the way I got here trying deny what you’ve told me seems pointless. We don’t live in the world of _Star Trek_ , so Castiel didn’t just beam me here. Believe me, I am not thrilled to learn that we’re living in the end times, but I accept it. What other choice do I have? Turning into Chicken Little isn’t going to help you. Or me for that matter.”

 

“That’s very evolved of you,” Sam commented. Emily could tell he was still a wary of her nonchalant attitude.

 

She chuckled. “Not really. I grew up with one family crisis after another. Basically, it was sink or swim. So I learned to deal with stuff as it comes. Angels, demons, end of the world. Not exactly just another Thursday in my life, but I’ll deal. My family on the other hand--”

 

“You can’t tell them anything,” Dean ordered curtly, his look intense. Almost dangerous. She’d seen a similar look on Jason’s face a few times, though never directed at her. Still she found an odd sort of comfort from it. Beside Dean, Sam moved slightly, as if to tell his brother to cool down.

 

“I wasn’t planning on it. Port Charles – that’s home by the way – isn’t ready for that news. I am going to have to tell them something. Though explaining how I got a thousand miles from home without anything isn’t going to be easy.”

 

“No it’s not,” Sam replied. “Which is why I don’t think you should contact your family.”

 

“Not an option,” Emily fired back.

 

“Emily,” Dean said her name softly. It almost sounded if he was trying to apologize for Sam’s suggestion.

 

“If you think for one second that I’ll let my family believe I just disappeared you’re both out of your minds.”

 

“It might be for the best.”

 

“Sammy,” Dean hissed, trying to shut him up.

 

“You don’t know my family. Or my friends for that matter. If I’m in trouble, if they even suspect I’m in trouble, they won’t stop until they find me.”

 

\---

 

A mutinous look crossed Emily’s face when he countered, “Really? Where were they when we met you at the Grand Canyon?” Sam didn’t need Dean nudging him under the table to know he’d misstep. Their voices were getting louder and attracting more interest from the late night crowd. Being memorable wasn’t something they could afford, but with Emily’s attire and now an argument, that is exactly what they would be.

 

It would be easy to blame the whole debacle on Cas. He’d brought Emily here, interrupting his much needed sleep and throwing her in the tenuous situation between him and Dean. On top of that, no matter how cool and collected she’d been the two weeks she and friends had traveled with them or how she was reacting, Emily was not a hunter. She would only be a hindrance to them as they tried to track and kill the devil.

 

“I hadn’t considered that,” Castiel said appearing at their table. Effectively stopping their dispute.

 

Sam gritted his teeth to stop himself from asking Cas what he hadn’t considered, because as far as he was concerned there was a number of things the angel hadn’t took into account.

 

“Way to be stealth Cas,” Dean chastised.

 

Apparently deciding to ignore them, Emily turned to Castiel. “What? That I have a life. Family. Friends. A job.” Her annoyance became clearer with each emphasized word.

 

“Maybe you should take her home,” Sam suggested. To his surprise Emily sent him irate glare.

 

"I'm supposed to be here,” she said, practically scolding him. “Just ask angel-boy."

 

“That true Cas?” Dean asked.

 

“Yes,” the angel replied.

 

“And why exactly is that?” Sam questioned pointedly. He was not surprised with Castiel ignored his question. The angel had a habit of only providing a reason for his actions when he was pushed to the brink, and clearly he was not there yet. Instead he told Emily, “I’ll take you to get your affairs in order.” Before anyone could protest, Emily and Castiel disappeared.

 

“Son of bitch,” his brother seethed beside him, before casting a quick glance around the diner. None of the patrons seemed to have noticed the sudden appearance or disappearance of Castiel.

 

“We could ship out before they get back,” Sam suggested.

 

Dean rubbed his face, his fading ire adding to the exhaustion lining it. “He’d just zap her back when he finds us,” he said, his voice flat with resignation. “Finish up Sammy. We eat, sleep, and get back on the road – companion in tow – first thing.”

 

He wanted to argue Dean’s plan. They were fighting density and the roles Lucifer and Michael wanted them to play. Certainly they could figure out a way to convince Castiel that having a civilian with them was as dangerous as it was stupid. Of course Dean hadn’t been overly receptive to his ideas. Not that Sam blamed him. His last grand plan had him trusting Ruby, drinking demon blood and opening Lucifer’s cage. Now they were all trying to clean up the mess he created and at this point Dean trusted Cas more than he did his own brother. It hurt, but Sam knew he’d given Dean plenty of reasons to be wary.

 

Instead of replying to him, Sam picked up his fork and went back to eating his salad, silently telling Dean that he’d follow his plan without putting up a fight.

 

\---

 

It hadn’t taken long to clean up her living room and change into clothes that actually fit her. She folded the jeans and shirt Dean and Sam had given her and placed them into a large duffel bag. Adding her cell charger and advanced first aid kit to it Emily was packed and ready to go. She had clothes, $5,000 in cash along with fake ids and credit cards. Lucky would probably freak if he knew that she kept and enhanced the emergency travel bag he started for her years ago when they’d run away from home, but what he didn’t know in this case couldn’t hurt him.

 

She snagged her real driver’s license out of her wallet, but left everything else in it and tucked it back into purse, which she hid in the back of her closet. It was unlikely that Jason or Lucky would search through there. At least for a while.

 

That left her with one thing to do and of course it was the most difficult. No one would believe that she would up and leave on a whim. Granted things were relatively settled, at least by Port Charles standards, but as she told Castiel she had her family, friends and a career. All of which she loved. Not to mention the fact that leaving General Hospital with absolutely no notice could cost her job, even if her last name was Quartermaine.

 

Glancing at the impatient angel, Emily knew she didn’t have a choice in the matter, so she booted up her laptop and drafted an email to the chief of staff. Steve Weber was a fair man and she could only hope that her job would be there waiting for her when she got back. That is if she got back and if there was a place to come back to. “Not going there,” she ordered herself as she hit the send button.

 

Lying was so much easier via email and she wondered if she could get away with shooting Lucky and Jason emails? Definitely not.

 

As she shutdown her computer Emily called Lucky with fingers crossed, hoping she’d get his voice-mail. She did a quick little shuffle dance when the electronic voice answered on the fifth ring. Story in place, she left her message after the beep. “Hey Lucky. I have to go out of town for a while. I know its short notice but,” she paused for dramatic effect, “I heard from Cory. She needs my help and well … I can’t go into details. Could you let Elizabeth and Nikolas know? I’ll update you when I can. Okay? Thanks. ”

 

One down, Emily thought. Jason had mentioned having business tonight. She hoped he was still out as she called his home number. She breathed a huge sigh of relief when his answering machine picked up. Her message for Jason was pretty much the same one she left for Lucky; however, she said Aunt Cory because she wasn’t certain if Jason even remembered that her birth-mother had a sister. She also left out the dramatic pause and the fact that she couldn’t go into details. If Jason even thought that there was a hint of danger involved with helping her aunt, he’d be after her in a second. “I know it is a lot to ask, but can you let the family know? Thanks, Jase. Love you,” she ended her message.

 

In case either of them got to her message sooner than she wanted them to, Emily turned off her cell phone. Shoving the cell into her pocket, she grabbed the leather jacket Jason had gotten her a few years ago to wear when she went riding with him. The idea of having a piece of him with her made Emily feel better about the journey she was about to embark upon.

 

“I’m ready,” she informed Castiel as she slung the strap of her duffel over her shoulder.

 

\---

 

Life with the Winchesters had its moments of monotony. The road stretching out endlessly before them as they traveled from town to town, facing down pagan gods, magicians and rouge angels; all the while, searching for a way to defeat Lucifer. Then there were the times when Dean and Sam insisted that she wait in whatever cheap motel or dilapidated house they’d hold up in, while they handled whatever supernatural situation they got caught up in. Sometimes she stayed better than others, much to their annoyance, even when she ended up saving the day like she did with Paris Hilton.

 

Okay, so not the real Paris Hilton. It had actually been the pagan god Leshii, who just happen to look like the vapid reality star at the time. Sam and Dean had managed to rescue the girls Leshii had transformed into the questionable idol to kill, but in the process got captured themselves – a somewhat recurring happenstance – and one of the reasons Emily was not always so good on the staying part. While Leshii taunted the brothers, she snuck in and was able to kill it before it transformed itself into John Winchester.

 

The brothers rarely spoke about their father, but whenever he was remotely referenced, it wasn’t hard to pick up on both the love and resentment they carried for the man; and Emily often wondered if they would have been able to kill Leshii themselves looking like their father. She knew for certain if Leshii had taken on the guise of her idol, her grandmother Lila, she would not have been able swing the iron ax that had separated Leshii’s head from her—its—body.

 

Instead of being thankful for saving their lives, she got a lecture from Dean about how dangerous a hunter’s world was and that a person with no experience with the supernatural should not get involved. She had wanted to protest that she did have experience, but he hadn’t let her get a word in edgewise and had the gall to throw out how stupid and immature it had been of her to risk their lives by getting involved in the hunt.

 

The lecture turned into a huge argument when Emily pointed out that the only immaturity she’d seen had been from Dean and Sam; whatever tension was between them, which of course they refused to speak about with her, had them bickering more often than not. Dean had informed her that his relationship with his brother was none of her “damn business” and stormed off and she yelled after him, “Apparently nothing around here is. I’m just supposed to be here being useless. Some great plan angel-boy had.”

 

Reminding Dean that Castiel wanted her with the Winchesters seemed to make things worse and for three days neither she nor Dean said a word to each other. Being trapped in the Impala with the boys had been wretched and Emily wanted nothing more than to call Jason. It wasn’t like he could help her. If Castiel wanted her with the Winchesters he’d keep sending her back to them. She knew this because she’d overheard Sam and Dean discussing it quietly together while they speculated why Cas had brought her to them in the first place, which led to an argument over whether Sam should research her not. Dean emphatically said no, but Emily figured that Sam went ahead and looked into her anyhow. She didn’t blame him for wanting to know more about her, so she didn’t hold the potential research against him. What she did mind was being viewed as helpless. So the only thing Emily could think to do was show the Winchesters that she wasn’t useless and could handle herself.

 

Her first chance to do that was in Nebraska, shortly before the trio came across Jesse Turner the Antichrist, though Emily liked to think of him as a Cambion as it didn't have the same negative connotation. Jesse had been – and hopefully still was – a sweet boy. Before meeting the boy powerful enough to scare Castiel, they’d come upon an accident on the highway. 911 had been called, but far from any hospital it hadn’t looked good for three car pileup. So Emily stepped in, using the advanced first aid kit she packed along with other odds and ends people had in their cars she went into a full on doctor mode, something she missed terribly; and she managed to save three of four critically wounded and help the other three who had minor scrapes and bruises.

 

It wasn’t until they saw her in the action that Winchesters—or at least Dean—learned that she was doctor. It hadn’t occurred to them to ask, and she hadn’t volunteered the information. Emily knew she could have had told them, but what they knew of her from their two weeks together following their less than stellar introduction at the Grand Canyon, she wasn’t certain they’d believe her. Besides, talking about any part of her life in Port Charles made her ache; which was why she limited her contact with family and friends to email and text messages. She never answered her phone when it rang, in fact, she usually left it off and only checked voicemail; and she never made any return calls, much to the consternation of everyone back home.

 

Emily was eternally grateful that Dean and Sam hadn’t asked her about her odd communication habits. Explaining them would mean extrapolating on everything else, and frankly, figuring out what to tell the Winchesters when their sharing abilities were limited was hard to figure out.

 

After the last seriously injured person was loaded into the ambulance and it raced away, lights flashing and siren blaring; Dean had come to stand next to her. “You save people.” Those were his first words to her in over seventy-two hours, and they brought a smile to her lips. She tilted her head and looked over at him.

 

“In my own way.”

 

He smiled back at her, the first real smile she’d seen from him in two years, and held out a bandana to her. She took it and wiped her sweaty brow. “Good work, Doc.” That was all he said before heading back to Sam, who was busy trying to extricate them from police presence that had come with the ambulances.

 

There had been no apology, but Emily hadn’t really expected one, nor had she offered one. There was simply acceptance and an ease in tension. As they drove toward Alliance, towards Jesse, Dean asked her about being a doctor and she answered his questions and Sam’s as well.

 

Of course that didn’t mean they wanted her assistance with Jesse. Even after he turned Castiel into an action figure; it still brought a smile to her face, remembering how the boys winced when she corrected them, saying Cas was now a man doll.

 

Being half human and half demon had imbued Jesse with essentially unlimited powers. Cas had seen a threat, the Winchesters a boy, but with his powers they wanted to keep Emily away, in their mind to protect her. Oh how she hated that. In Jesse, Emily had seen Michael, her godson/nephew, and his younger brother, Morgan. And just like she gotten through to Michael when he’d withdrawn into himself, she was able to reach Jesse. Not enough to get him to stay and let the Winchesters help him; but enough that he trusted them and exorcised the demon from his birth mother and returned Castiel to his proper form before he disappeared.

 

Jesse was out there somewhere and Emily hoped every day that he was safe. Hoped, not prayed. Prayers could be listened in on, but hope was internal and just for herself. She hoped to see her brother again, along with the rest of her family and friends. She hoped the Winchesters found a way to beat the devil and stop Armageddon. She hoped that Castiel would explain why Dean supposedly needed her. She hoped that Sam and Dean would stop treating her like a bumpkin in need of protecting.

 

They had at least been grateful for her presence when they ran up against Patrick, a magician who stole years from people. Not that he stole exactly; people gambled for more time with the handsome magician, offering up their own life. It seemed fair and straight forward, but Emily knew you never bet against the house. They always won.

 

Dean should have known that, but he was cocky in his poker abilities and desperate to save Bobby Singer. Surrogate father, hunting guru, and most trusted ally, the Winchesters loved Bobby fiercely and they were grateful to have Emily around with man’s sudden aging. Bobby, however, was not pleased to have them around. Especially Emily, whom even with angelic approval, he did not trust; there was all the holy water he thought he was making her drink unknowingly and bits of silver and bobs and ends he left for her to touch, tests to make sure she was just the human doctor she claimed to be.

 

When she was able to help Dean after his sudden age increase, Bobby had been a bit friendlier. Though when Lia, Patrick’s girlfriend offered her a spell to help save Dean and break Patrick’s power the suspicion returned. Why give them that information at all? And in particular why give it to Emily?

 

After verifying in theory that the spell would work and not really having much of an option, Emily had gone with Sam to face Patrick at the poker table. Bobby hadn’t liked it, but knew Sam might need backup and with Bobby performing the spell and Dean’s poor health she’d been on the only option. Little did they know how good of a reinforcement she could be if needed. She’d been schooled in poker from two of the best, Lucky Spencer, her oldest and dearest friend and his father, Luke. If Sam lost, Emily had every intention of playing herself.

 

It hadn’t come to that, thankfully, but it had been a very close call; especially on Dean’s part. When they parted, everyone at the proper age, Bobby seemed more comfortable with her; though it had taken a bit more convincing to let her see his medical file. She hadn’t been able to give him different diagnosis than his own doctors, but she had needed to try, and she thought it a small victory that he allowed her to.

 

Of course the only reason he might have acquiesced was because of the bizarre phone call between them when Sam and Dean had been trapped in the television. Why the Trickster, as she believe him to be at the time, and later learned to be the Archangel Gabriel, had let her view the boys traverse through a myriad of television shows was beyond her.

 

Before they left to hunt him Dean filled her in on their history and made it absolutely clear that she was not to follow them. In fact, it had been an order. One that if she hadn’t agreed to, Dean threaten to tie her to the chair to make sure she could not come after them. Emily promised, but the Winchesters hadn’t learned by then that she only held to promises such as that for a certain amount of time. If they were in danger, she would come to help them, whether they liked it or not.

 

When the tv in the hotel room turned itself on and Sam and Dean were in an episode of _Dr Sexy M.D._ she’d never seen, she knew something went horribly wrong. Castiel didn’t respond to her calls—she learned why when he appeared in television with the guys—and she had no idea what to do. She could go to the warehouse, but there was no way of knowing if she’d find Dean and Sam there; or the Tickster for that matter. Not to mention the fact that she could get stuck in programs with the guys. So she called Bobby, talked him through everything that happened and kept at it is as the guys were invariably moved to another show before she was done describing what was happening.

 

When she shared the angel news with Bobby he cursed, and then when the tv shut itself off unexpectedly he promised her everything would be all right. Emily wasn’t sure if he said that because she needed to hear it, or because he needed to believe it himself. So he waited with her on the phone, neither really speaking until the hotel door opened and Emily started berating Sam and Dean for not calling as soon as they got away from Gabriel.

 

“How did you know about that?” Sam queried.

 

“I had the exclusive tv rights and Bobby got play-by-play,” she snapped, thrusting the phone at Sam before stalking off to the bathroom. When she came back into the room twenty minutes later after grumbling to herself about how irresponsible and clueless the Winchesters were, she found the boys sitting on the bed waiting for her. They had the decency to look sheepish. “We didn’t know—” Sam started to say, but Dean cut him off. “Sorry.”

 

She acknowledged the apology with a slight nod and then informed them, “Next time I’m going with you.” It was an irrefutable statement as far as she was concerned, to which Dean replied, “Maybe.” As far as progress went it wasn’t much, but Emily took it.

 

Little did any of them know, attending the Supernatural fan convention—and seriously why hadn’t they told her about the books?—would turn out to be the next time. No one was prepared for that, not even the so called prophet Chuck.

 

It had started out as a race against time, or so Dean and Sam thought, when they got a text message — life or death situation with an address — from Chuck Shurley. As Dean sped them towards location there had been a debate if they should drop her somewhere, but not knowing how dire the situation was the brothers decided there wasn’t time. It was only after that decision was made that Sam explained that Chuck was prophet.

 

Turned out that Chuck was not clairvoyant enough to know that Becky Rosen, Supernatural Super Fan and in on the truth of Sam and Dean’s existence because Chuck had needed to send the guys a message without the angels knowing, had sent text to get the Winchesters to attend the fan convention. There had been annoyance on the guys’ part, embarrassment on Chuck’s, and once Becky established that there was nothing romantic going on between her and Sam, the girl stopped giving her the laser eye glare of doom and started following Sam around, flirting inappropriately with him at every chance.

 

Dean had wanted a drink and then to go. Though it was a tossup on which he wanted more, but taking perverse pleasure in watching Sam squirm because of Becky he decided on the drink; which turned out to be in the best interest in the participants of the convention, because the hotel the event was taking place in was authentically haunted.

 

Leticia Gore suspected of killing her boys and scalping one of them had been awoken by the wanna-be hunters. Or at least that is what they thought, until learning otherwise. That was something else Emily was getting use to – hunts rarely went as planned, but sometimes what was being hunted wasn’t necessarily bad. In the case of Leticia Gore, she hadn’t been a ghost after hurting people, rather she’d been trying to protect everyone from the three boys she took in who had killed and scalped her son. Once they salted and burned her body, with the unlikely help of Demian, a role-playing Dean convention attendee, and Barnes (his Sam counterpart) the little hellions had no one holding them back.

 

Things went from bad to worse, yet another trend. Chuck and Becky kept the convention attendees, other hotel guests and personnel locked up in the ballroom, to protect them; while Sam and Dean distracted the ghost boy gang, and she went with Demian and Barnes to salt and burn the boys’ bodies. Not exactly their original plan, but they managed and kept the boys from hurting anyone else.

 

And once the dust settled they’d been able to learn things from Chuck … and Becky of all people. While Dean said his goodbyes to Demian and Barnes and Sam was having what looked to be an awkward conversation with Becky, Chuck informed her that Jason with the aid of super hacker was close to tracking her down. After thanking him for the information she asked him if he had any idea why Castiel wanted her with the Winchesters.  He smiled ruefully at her through his scruffy beard. “I’ll tell you what I told Sam and Dean. Angels are good at hiding their intentions and I don’t go poking around, even if they’re friendly.” The long night had exhaustion lining his face, and Emily knew she did not look much better.

 

“You don’t have that limitation with me though?”

 

“No. I basically know everything about you,” he admitted, blushing slightly and looking guilty. “But you don’t have worry,” he hurried, “the guys have made it pretty clear that I’m not allowed to publish anymore. I have to write it down, it’s the only way to get it out of my head, but I won’t be sharing it anymore. So you don’t have to worry about secrets of Port Charles going public.”

 

“Good to know,” she replied, offering him smile of appreciation. They saw Becky and Sam break apart; the girl turned towards Chuck, grinned and waved him over while Sam sprinted towards Dean.

 

“If I had to speculate,” Chuck said, motioning to Becky to give him a minute, “I’d say it has something to do with your blood.”

 

“My blood?” she queried.

 

“Yep. There are angelic lines for you know … hosting an angel, and when a demon possesses a human it does something to their blood. And knowing that curse you survived, well,” he paused and shrugged his slight shoulders. “It probably changed you. At least, that’s the only thing I think it could be.”

 

They shared a few more hushed words before she gave him a quick, friendly hug and made her way to the Winchesters who appeared anxious as they spoke next to the Impala. On the short trek across the hotel parking lot Emily took out her cell phone and removed the SIM card. She pocketed it and threw the phone in a garbage can as she passed. She was happy that Dean and Sam were so deep in conversation that they didn’t notice.

 

“Good,” Dean said when she stopped next him. “We gotta book. Sammy will explain once we’re on the road.” Sam shot his brother a quizzical look, but Dean ignored it and headed to start the car.

 

The younger Winchester let out a resigned sigh. “Front or back?” he asked her. Emily knew Sam preferred the front seat, even when he and Dean were at their bickering worse; and since he was going to be sharing information with her that he didn’t really want to she answered, “Back.”

 

“Appreciate it,” he replied as he reached and opened the backdoor of the Impala for her. “So do I,” she told him as she slid into the car.


End file.
